Picked you up on the seashore,

Little seashell glistening bright,

I sang to you the ocean’s song,

Empty of what was once delight.

Painted you like a Geisha doll,

Prisoner to the master’s gaze,

But there in the mirror darkly,

It’s clear I’m the one who pays.

Because candles don’t burn forever,

The wicked child no longer bright,

Still I’ll throw you a spark or two,

But only set the world alight.

The vine is empty of its fruit,

Such tastes I’ve never known,

I live in want to watch them bloom,

To have that fullness for my own.

My empty cornucopia,

Full of the things I want to give,

And while the happy phantoms feast,

I wish that one would live.